


Beg Him to Forgive Me

by hardasitis



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy, Voyná i mir | War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, First Time, Period-Typical Homophobia, nothing like projecting my feelings onto my fav character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 05:10:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13357188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardasitis/pseuds/hardasitis
Summary: Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova had a singular constant in her life: church. Wealth, love, friendship, gossip; these things were secular and fleeting. One couldn’t take their earthly possessions with them and they were, as such, irrelevant. Now God? That was something that Marya could get behind.





	Beg Him to Forgive Me

Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova had a singular constant in her life: church. Wealth, love, friendship, gossip; these things were secular and fleeting. One couldn’t take their earthly possessions with them and they were, as such, irrelevant. Now God? That was something that Marya could get behind. Someone she could depend on (or at least pretend to). God was watching over Prechistensky Boulevard when her precious Natalie was clinging to life. God was peering over her shoulder as Countess Helene Bezukhova showed up in Marya’s sitting room, looking a wreck and pleading for forgiveness. God was with her until that night, when Marya had shut God out of her bedroom.

A shiver ran down her spine at the memory and she shook it off, sucking in a deep breath and settling her shawl about her shoulders. These thoughts shouldn’t plague her mind at any time, especially not on her beloved Sunday mornings, especially not in the house of the Lord.

_“Masha, please-“_  
_Helene was laying on her back with her legs spread wide in front of Marya, her expression pleading. Tight ringlets of brown hair spilled out of her intricate bun and one hand was thrown over her eyes with the other tightened in the silk bedsheets._

_Marya had known that she shouldn’t. This had gone too far. There she was, on her knees and naked in her own bed, in front of Countess Helene Bezukhova, a known slut and the wife of her oldest and dearest friend. Not only this, but Helene had betrayed her. She had a hand in Anatole’s wicked scheme. After years of believing that Helene had some semblance of respect and maybe even love for Marya, it broke the dame’s heart to know that Helene had willingly tried to ruin her precious goddaughter. That thought alone should have stopped her. It should have, but Heaven knows it didn’t. Helene had apologized, had begged for forgiveness. She had said she didn’t know what was going to happen. Marya battled with her own moral compass, but decided that it was neither the time or the place. With a deep breath and no more thoughts towards any other matter, Marya gave into her lust and buried her head between the younger woman’s thighs._

Marya Dmitrievna considered herself a good woman. She was strict, sure, but good. If not even that, Marya had morals. Or so she thought.  
She had heard stories of Helene, how the Countess could drive a man stark mad with a single look. It was all gossip, she had assumed. How wrong she was. Helene, with a single kiss, had taken all of her beliefs and turned them on their heads. With a simple caress, Helene had brought Marya Dmitrievna, the Great Dragon of Moscow, to her knees. Even more distressing, Helene had uncovered Marya’s secret with a lustful glance.

It had taken years for Marya to discover what Helene had found out in a moment. Marya endured years of courting by strange and distasteful men before it hit her all in an instance. While all other Russian women of status were pining over the fine military men, Marya was more focused on the lovely and gentle women in their corsets and silken gowns. What she wouldn’t have given to have been able to look at men in that way...

The beginning of the next hymn snapped Marya out of her reverie and she found that she couldn’t focus. The Latin that usually brought her comfort sounded foreign to her ears and her hands clutched at the pew in front of her. Why is it that every time she closed her eyes in an attempt to pray, she ended up seeing Helene’s base and cringing smirk in her mind’s eye?

_“Elena, my God... мой Бог...”  
Marya laid back against the pillows, her red curls sticking to the sweat that covered her forehead. Despite the pleasure coursing through her veins, Marya found herself unable to look up at the woman who had caused it. Her cheeks flushed as Helene laid next to her in silence._

The two had not said a word to each other after. Instead, they chose to fall asleep and in the morning, Marya had quickly dressed and escaped to church.

Suddenly, Marya felt hot and panicked just standing there, feigning interest in the liturgy. She picked up her skirts and, without so much as a genuflect to the Crucifix, made the immoral decision to run from the one place that had always been safe for her and straight to the place that frightened her.

Marya could have called for a troika. She could have collected herself and confidently walked through the snow back to her home. Instead, she clutched at her skirts and ran back home, looking very much like a young child who had been chastised.

Once inside, Marya slammed the door behind her and leaned against it, breathing heavily. She felt tears prick at her eyes and willed them not to fall. Marya was a grown woman. She couldn’t cry. There was nothing to cry over. Sure, she may have slept with another woman and committed a very mortal sin in the process, but God would forgive her. He had to.

“Marya?”

A soft voice broke her intrusive thoughts and Marya’s head snapped up. Helene was standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at her.  
Marya straightened up and pulled her shawl around her once more. She half-expected Helene to laugh at her. What a riot, Marya thought, for the queen of society to see Marya in such a vulnerable state. Before Helene could say anything more, Marya took a deep breath and spoke in her usual booming voice, begging it not to tremble or crack.

“I had church this morning. Not that you would understand, but it’s quite important to me,” Marya snapped, rather coldly. She couldn’t quite explain why she was so angry. Maybe if she forced Helene out of her house and out of her life, she could work through this.

Helene took a few steps down the grand staircase. “I know how important church is to you, Marya. Don’t pretend that I am a stranger. What surprises me is why you’re home so early. It hasn’t been more than half an hour. Certainly mass couldn’t have ended so quickly, could it?”

“I decided to come home before Natasha and Sonya came over before brunch and saw you in my home,” Marya stiffened as Helene descended the steps and pressed a hand to Marya’s cheek. The older woman instinctively pulled away and took a step back.

“Ah, yes,” Helene seemed amused. “I would hate for your goddaughter to be corrupted by the sight of a whore in your holy house.”

Marya whipped around. “Don’t- Don’t call yourself that, Countess.”

“Countess?” Helene threw her head back and cackled, a piercing noise that shook Marya. “Dear Mashenka, I believe we’ve been a little too familiar for titles.”

The reminder of their sinful activities the night before gripped Marya’s soul and she began to breathe heavily. Normally, she would have found a witty remark to snap back at the woman but Marya was too concerned with the very real fact that she couldn’t breathe. Pushing past Helene, Marya dropped onto a sofa in her drawing room, clutching at her heart.

Helene, in a surprising show of tenderness, followed her and dropped to her knees in front of the grand dame. “Marya? Marya, can you hear me?”

Marya nodded, her eyes fixated at a point near Helene’s shoulder instead of looking her in the eyes. Without Helene even needing to ask anything, the words spilled out of Marya’s mouth with no hesitation.

“I’ve sinned, Elena. I’ve sinned and now I’ve quite possibly ruined everything,” Marya’s voice was uncharacteristically soft and that frightened Helene. “I have committed a grave sin by touching you. I am committing a sin now by even having you in my home.”

Helene laughed, but it wasn’t cruel or mocking. “Marya, that’s what has gotten you so worked up? Why should God care who you sleep with? I would hope he’d have more important things to worry about.”

Marya shook her head, her hands trembling in Helene’s grip. She couldn’t do this. Not here; not in front of Helene. She was much too old to be shaking and crying in a woman’s grip like a heartbroken child.

“Marya, listen to me,” Helene’s voice hardened and she took Marya’s face in her hands. “You forgave me.”

Marya slowly opened her eyes. “Now why does that matter?” The question was weak and Marya cursed herself for showing such vulnerability.

“I hurt you, Marya. Against my better judgement, I hurt you and I was part of the cause of Natalya’s attempt at her own life,” Helene smiled at Marya, a genuine smile that surprised even herself. “Through your anger and your sorrow, you forgave me. If a mere mortal such as yourself can do such a thing, why can’t an all-loving God? You’ve lived long enough as who you are. Why would He turn his back on you now, mon Cher?”

Marya let a tiny crackle of a smile grace her lips at Helene’s kind words and the utter butchering of the French endearment. “You must be careful, Countess,” She said quietly after a moment. “You might ruin your reputation as a cold and careless woman if someone else heard those words.”

A laugh escaped Helene’s lips as her thumb stroked Marya’s cheek. “See, I knew you were kind. Always looking out for my reputation,” she snarked before placing a soft and chaste kiss on Marya’s lips. She stood and stretched. “Well, I must be getting dressed and off before my feckless husband wonders where I’ve gone off to.”

Marya stood quickly as Helene started for the stairs. “Helene-“

The younger woman turned, a lopsided smirk on her lips. “Yes, mon dorogaya?”

Marya let her gaze linger on Helene’s expectant look. As she stared at her, she felt something in her stomach flutter and for the first time in years, she felt young and uninhibited. Marya felt as if Helene had unlocked some part of her that she didn’t even know existed just with her shocking display of kindness.

“Thank you.”

As Helene flashed Marya another stunning smile before gliding up the steps, Marya resolved that she would perhaps try to keep Helene around. For Sunday mornings, at the very least.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated!


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